Thursday, 17 October 2013

Luigi scrolled through the list of contacts on his phone until he found
Colin’s number.

“Hi, Colin! How are you? It’s Luigi.
Cody’s”—he hesitated for an instant—“lover.” That’s
what I am, he thought, even if I am
also his friend.

“I was wondering about how he was.”

“Things are tough, Colin.” Luigi
didn’t want to go into details, not with Cody listening.

“Yeah.”

“Colin, Cody thinks he’s seen the killer.
We took some photos of the car and we have the number plate.”

“Did a detective talk to Cody?”

“Yes,” said Luigi, “but, well, we don’t trust them. We trust you.
And anyway, maybe Cody was wrong
and then they wouldn’t listen to us if we were to see him again. So I thought we ought to let you know and
maybe you can tell us who owns that car.”

“Well, I can’t really. That’s
private information. But I tell you what
I will do. I’ll look it up and see who
it is and maybe go and have a shifty, see where he lives and works, that sort
of thing.”

“We should come with you.”

“Not a good idea. This is a police
matter. You’re … well, don’t want to be
rude, but … you’re amateurs.”

“He’s going to do it again,” said Luigi quietly.

“I know. So I’m going to do some
research and then come into the city.
I’ll come and talk to you two about what you saw.”

Tuesday, 15 October 2013

Luigi flung down a $20 note on the counter inside and fled. The waitress ran after him with the change,
but by then they had disappeared.

The man walked briskly along the pavement, stepping around the tables and
chairs outside the pavement cafés. He
turned down a side street. Luigi and
Cody followed cautiously, trying to peer round the building on the corner like
cats. He stopped next to a car and they
heard the keys beep as he opened the door.

“Memorise the numberplate!” ordered Luigi, while he himself stepped out
onto the pavement and lifted his mobile for a photo.

The car pulled out and moved away fast.
Luigi took several photographs as it disappeared into the distance.

Luigi was filled with a cold deep rage.
The thought of what the killer had done to Cody, to the body and soul of
the man he loved more than anyone went to his bones and guts. He would stalk this monster and punish
him. Impractical notions of gunslinger
battles filled his head and then a cool realism damped them down. He would follow this man to his car or his
home. And he would take a photo with his
mobile phone of the man and his car or his destination wherever that was. The police would have him then.

“No he won’t,” Luigi said confidently.
“No way. He hasn’t seen me
before.”

“Then I’m going to come with you!” Cody was still pale and greenish but
he looked better.

Luigi was torn. It really wasn’t
safe for Cody to accompany him. Surely
the killer knew him with a perverted profound intimacy? But Cody looked so disturbed at the mere thought
that he would be left alone that Luigi gave in.